


Things Worth Changing

by RiaLeon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6673225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaLeon/pseuds/RiaLeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artemis Holtzer has been given the opportunity to change a story from within it. She's dropped into the Half-Blood Prince with no magic, an overinflated sense of cosmic justice and an unusual ability. Will she change the story for the better or find that some things can't be changed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Worth Changing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Fanfic, I decided to do the "girl gets dropped into the wizarding world" trope because those always happen to be my favorites. I hope she won't become too MarySue-ish, but sometimes that's unavoidable. This is definitely more of a silly story rather than a serious one, lots of banter, lots of music references, lots of sassiness, probably a good dose of fluff as well. Mostly, I just hope everyone has a good time reading, because I had fun writing it. So let me know what y'all think.
> 
> P.S. I suck at proof reading, but I try to avoid grammatical/spelling errors as much as I can, so try not to hate me too much for that.

Chapter 1: Eventful Changes

Up until this point, life had been entirely uneventful. However, on this day, there was a strange electric current that made the air heavy, and buzzing. Laying in her bed, with her eyes still closed, she attempted to remember the dream she had been having. All she could recall were snippets of color, and material. Warm colored stone, a green landscape with soft crisp veil of mist, but no discernible message or reason to the dream. With her mind still cloudy with sleep, she felt a charge in the air. It felt like a presence, and in the hazy early morning half-light of her room, she felt a twist in her stomach and a reluctance to open her eyes.   
Slowly, her tension receded as she began to hear her home waking up. She could hear her mother shuffle her slippered feet on the oak floors, one of her siblings in the bathroom with the faucet running, her father…was definitely still asleep, because he was a smart man, a man who knew that it was Saturday, a man who wholeheartedly believed no one should wake up before the sun on the weekend. She was a firm supporter of her father’s philosophy, unlike her mother, sister and brother, who seemed to jump out of bed every day with a ridiculously optimist flourish of their pajamas, bright eyes and easy smiles, ready to kill everyone with kindness.   
As the smells of coffee, bacon and pancakes began to creep into her room, she snuggled further in her bed, decidedly cozy and content to remain there. Her body, however, felt a twinge of hunger at the delicious aroma of her mother’s cooking, and she decided it was time to face the day. She kicked off her covers, checked the time on her phone which read 5:13, and began hunting for her slippers in her room (which her mother affectionately referred to as Chernobyl). Finally, having located her slippers, she put them on along with her cream colored floral robe, and went to brush her teeth and hair.   
She walked to the kitchen, pulled by her gurgling stomach. Her mother gave her quick glance from where she stood, frying bacon in her pajamas.“Well, this is a nice surprise, have you decided to embrace this lovely morning, Mis?” Her mother said wryly, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. She smiled at her mother’s words. “No, and I won’t be coherent until I mainline some coffee” Mis grumbled good naturedly. Her mother pointed to the brewed coffee pot next to the sink, and Mis walked over groggily to fixed some for herself. Halfway through the cup, her eyes began to open fully. Her mother placed a small stack of pancakes in front of her already doused with maple syrup with a pad of sweet cream on the top. It was mostly silent in the kitchen, expect for the homey sound of her mother cooking.  
Mis’ brother walked into the kitchen dressed in a pair of oil stained jeans and a maroon sweatshirt, saw her sitting at the table and narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Yes, I’m awake, Yes, it’s probably a sign of the apocalypse.” she said with an impatient wave of her hand. He nodded his head solemnly “As I thought.” he confirmed solemnly, turning to their mother “Mom, gather the canned food, I’ll seal the doors, apparently the end in nigh.” Her brother said dispassionately.“Alright hon, I’ll get on that when the bacon is done” she said without looking up. “Hilarious” Mis deadpanned, taking a sip of coffee.  
Her brother loaded up his plate with fruit, pancakes, and a small mountain of freshly cooked bacon, then sat down on the bench in front of the kitchen table. He then proceeded to shovel food into his mouth at an alarming rate, Mis sighed in exasperation “Really?” she said, “We’re trying to maintain a modern society here. With the way you’re wolfing down those pancakes, I expect for us to be set back at least 500 years from your eating display alone.” She quipped, the coffee activating her mind into it’s regular state of playful sarcasm. In response, he opened his mouth full of food at her. “Such dignity.” she said, fighting the urge to smile.  
“Oh, Mis could I borrow your car? I’ve gotta go to the junkyard to get a couple parts for the Vette.” Said her brother, “Come on, Ryan. You were there like three days ago, what could they have possibly gotten in three days?” She argued. “Maybe I have a life too, maybe there are places I want to go.” She said, slightly annoyed.  
“You went to Bookman’s yesterday, there is literally no way you have anywhere to be.” Ryan said with a steady look. His statement was, of course, correct; however that didn’t stop her from being a little offended. She had the intention of staying in today and sorting through the books she had gotten, so she heaved a long-suffering sigh “Fine, but you better wash it after, don’t skimp on the detailing either, that goddamn dustpit junkyard dirt got all over my baby last time and it took me an hour and a half to scrub off that grime.” she said, pointing her finger at him threateningly. “Language.” her mother said crossly, “I didn’t raise you to speak like that.” Her mother chastised. Mis shrugged unapologetically, “It is a god damned place, I’m being accurate.” Mis insisted in defense of her comment. Her mother gave her a level look, as she placed a huge plate of bacon on the table.  
Her brother mopped up the remaining maple syrup on his plate with a piece of toast hurriedly, “keys” he said holding out his hand expectantly. Mis pointed to the key rack on the wall, he went over to retrieve them then walked to the back door, “Thanks Missy, I’ll wash it before you have to drive.” he shouted as he ran out the door. Mis finished up her breakfast, and decided to pour herself a second cup of coffee. Her mom sat down beside her, and began eating. “Where’s June? shouldn’t she be awake yet?” Mis asked conversationally. “She already had breakfast and left for California at four” her mother replied while doing her crossword puzzle. “Oh, yeah.” Mis mumbled. The room grew quiet, except for the soft rustle of the newspaper.  
Mis and her mother stayed in a comfortable silence, her mother doing her puzzle, while Mis sipped her coffee. Having finished her breakfast and coffee, Mis decided it was time to truly start the day. She went back into her room, and threw on a pair of yoga pants, her clockwork orange T-shirt, and started to organize her books. Her room was small, and yellow, with none of the normal posters or knick knacks one would normally find in a 17 year old’s bedroom. She had one priority for her room: that it store as many books as humanly possible… her priority was met. She had four large black bookcases that her father had built custom for her to reach from floor to ceiling.   
She collected antique books, first editions, signed copies, and she loved them; their intricate illustrations, thick glossy paper, and the knowledge that they had been more places than she had. Some of her book had lived more interesting live than she, a fact that both fascinated and irritated her. On more than one occasion, it had been explained to her that she could make “some serious moola” if she ever decided to sell them, she never dignified such suggestions with responses, other than perhaps a look of annoyance.   
While dusting her third bookshelf, she felt her heart pick up for no readily available reason. The charge in the air made itself known again, and it felt heavy. She felt her skin prickle, and her eyes grew wider, she was frozen in place. Her heart beat almost painfully hard, reverberating in her ribs and lungs. She felt a numbness begin to trickle through her limbs, as though they could feel danger and were preparing for a fight. Three soft knocks on her bedroom door, made her jump slightly, and she shook her head in an attempt to regain some composure. “Yeah?” she said her voice sounding high, and tentative to her ears.   
The door opened, and her father walked. She felt her tension dissolve like sugar in coffee at seeing his wrinkle mapped face, and dark eyes gaze around the room. After his assessment he gave her an approving look at her choice of activity. “I was starting to get worried, it’s been nearly a week since you organized the archives.” He said, the only thing giving away his good humor being the small crows feet crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, I figured it was time, wouldn’t want them to start feeling neglected.” she replied seriously, her tone matching his and her eyes bright.   
“So, Missy, I’ve got a project for you.” he said clapping his hands together, and motioning for her to follow him to the kitchen. She knew from past experience her father’s words didn’t bode well, generally the “projects” in the past had consisted of some sort of organization or cleaning task. The project last week had been sorting through the tin shed outside. Separating the things worth keeping, throwing away, and donating would have been an undesirable task at any time of year, but having to do it in the Arizona summer had been particularly heinous. What with carrying and inspecting the boxes contents, and her carful avoidance of spiders and other black crawling things. Within twenty minutes her hair was stuck to her bright red cheeks. Within an hour, she had become deranged by the soul wilting heat as well as the righteous anger that the bubbled in her chest at being the sole contributor to this thankless task.  
She followed her father outside her room with crossed arms, poorly hidden annoyance evident in her purposeful gait. Her father sat down at the kitchen table where he had a cup of coffee, and the paper. Her mother was at the sink doing the dishes from breakfast and humming pleasantly. He motioned for her to have a seat, “You don’t have to glare, Mis. I think you’ll actually like this project.” Her father said, causing her stance to softened minutely. She slowly lowered herself onto the kitchen table bench, her eyes still narrowed slightly in suspicion. “So, you remember Mrs. Weber? She used to babysit for you, she was a friend of grandma’s.” Her father said, waving his hands in a circular motion as if that would somehow waft the memories into her brain.  
Mis gave a snort, “Of course I remember that old bat, she taught me how to do that water witch thing, you know with a forked branch or whatever. Jesus Christ, she must be clinging to life with a white knuckle grip.” Mis said, genuinely impressed that the woman was still alive.  
“Language.” her mother said in exasperation, turning around with her hands on her hips to shoot Mis a glare. Her father chuckled at Mis being reprimanded before looking serious agian. “She needs someone to go over and keep her company a couple times a week.” her father said hesitantly. Mis narrowed her eye in confusion,“Wait, why me? She has a kid, right? why won’t her son take care of her old person loneliness?” Mis asked, her tone a mixture of confusion and irritation.  
“Well, apparently he just got remarried and moved to Maine a few weeks ago. I ran into Mrs. Weber at the market yesterday, she seemed pretty depressed, and I think it would be good for her… and you, if you were to go over there and offer a little companionship for her. I mean…You’ve hardly gone anywhere this summer.” her father said, attempting to look innocent while taking a sip of coffee. Mis gave her father a look of indignation, and said with a level voice “So you told her that I would go over and listen to her stories about the great depression, and how she had to walk two miles to school, uphill both ways, barefoot in the snow.” Mis made a look of mock interest “or maybe I could ask her what dinosaur she rode in on?” She said with false enthusiasm.  
“Mis.” her father said warningly. She raised her eyebrows innocently. “I didn’t even hint to her that I was gonna send you to keep her company, but it would be a very kind thing for you to do, and it’d be good for her and…” Mis cut her father off “…Yeah, and me, because nothing’s better for a teenage recluse than an older than sin, batshit crazy recluse”   
Mis’ mother turned from the sink to glare at her, gave a long suffering sigh at her choice of verbiage, and her father gave her a stern look but then winked when her mother turned back around. Mis smiled softly, knowing she had lost. In truth, she didn’t mind Mrs. Weber at all, the old woman had always been very sweet to her, which was apparently out of the old woman’s norm. She remembered her sister June complaining about Mrs. Weber’s lack of filter on more than one occasion, and her brother frequently commenting on her peculiar smell. “It’s like if rotten sea water and mint tea had a child.” he had said after mowing her lawn one day.  
Despite the fact that Mis wasn’t thrilled about leaving her newly purchased books, and the organization of said books, she still felt a little happy about getting out of the house, even if it was only to see an elderly, slightly deranged older woman. “Ryan, took my car…” Mis said.   
“You’ve got a bike.” her mother said, putting away the dishes, and giving her a look that said ‘try and test me’. “Fine, but if I melt before I get there…” Mis started, “I’ll give away your worldly possessions per the request of your will, and live out the rest of my life in guilt ridden misery.” her mother finished with a smile in her voice.“As long as we’re on the same page.” Mis said with a smirk.  
Mis went into her room, threw on a pair of grey jeans, and a dark green tank. She then brushed her wavy, shoulder length, dark brown hair, attempting to force it’s fluffiness into submission. She opted for a French braid with a few loose strands to frame her heart shaped face. Mis knew she shouldn’t care about applying makeup; she was just going to see Mrs. Weber, but she enjoyed it. Mis liked to be attractive, and although she knew her looks weren’t movie starlet beautiful, she knew what features she liked about her face and enjoyed highlighting them.  
She had a sweet, peaches and cream complexion, and dark hazel eyes that held laughter and mischief. Her face had no hard lines, just gentle curves, and those who knew her moderately well said it was an innocent face that was trustworthy; however, those who truly knew her, often loved to comment on the irony of such an impish mind being behind such a sweet face. Face of a hobbit and the mind of a Slytherin, she liked to think. After a apllying little mascara, some brown eye liner, and pale pink lip balm, she felt that she was pretty enough to face the world outside her home.  
After getting the directions to Mrs. Weber’s house from her father, she kissed both her parents goodbye while slipping on her backpack, her mother warning her against course language in front of the elderly. Although it was June, and the Arizona summer was beginning to make the Phoenix air thick and syrupy, there was a nice breeze as Mis rode her bike the two miles to Mrs. Weber’s house. She arrived mostly un-withered. The exercise had made her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright, even though her hair had become a little feral looking. Dismounting her bike, she leaned in against the side of the bright blue house that was Mrs. Weber’s. It had stained glass windows, reflecting the noon sun, with a multitude of furiously overgrown rose bushes below them. There was a massive pecan tree in the front yard, and its leaves flowed softly in the breeze, giving blinking shade to the neighborhood cats that reclined under it.   
Mis knelt down, clicking her tongue and reached her hand out in an effort to coax one closer. A large smoky grey tomcat took her bait, and trotted over to her, first sniffing her hand hesitantly, then butting his soft fuzzy head against it. She pet him for a moment, talking in high-pitched cat gibberish to him, then felt a presence behind her. Standing quickly, she turned around and came face to face with a small leathery old woman in a baby pink house dress.   
“You’ve met Tommy, he’s the man of the neighborhood, loves to be near pretty girls.” said Mrs. Weber in a pleasant, if slightly raspy smokers voice. “Yeah, I bet you don’t let him in the house, it seems his ego couldn’t fit through the door”,said Mis as Tommy purred and wove through her legs. “Very true, plus he’s got quite a temper when he gets himself worked up.” Mrs. Weber said with an amused glint in her cloudy blue eyes. Mis gave a soft laugh, and knelt down to pet Tommy some more. “I didn’t expect you for a couple more days, Artemis, you’re early.” Mrs. Weber commented, and Mis gave her a look that feigned interest, but in truth, she was slightly concerned by that statement.   
“Worry not, though, I’m nothing if not prepared.” the old woman said, waving Mis into the house. Hiding her confusion, Mis followed after Mrs. Weber’s crooked gait into the dim house, shutting the door behind her. The first thing she noticed was the fractured gold and red, stained-glass sunlight painting itself on the dark wood floors. The dusty air was thick and pressurized, and Mis felt constricted and sluggish in her movements the moment she closed the door. “You’ll get used to the heaviness, after a moment or two, Artemis.”   
“Um, ok.” Mis said in a wary tone, “But…uh…why? Like what? Is happening?” Mis said intelligently.  
“Use your words, dear, I know it seems strange here, but I promise you’ll get used to it.” she said patiently while Mis stood frozen. “Come on into the kitchen, and we can talk.”   
Mis gave a grunt of acceptance, dropped her backpack on the floor, and followed the old woman. The house was interesting, with many things to look at. The heaviness became more bearable as Mis walked through it, and she began to take in her surroundings. It was similar to how she remember it as a small child, like an antique shop, with curio cabinets full of colorful blown glass, and old toys that would cause modern day parents concern for all their wooden removable parts. Nation Geographic magazines, yellowed newspapers, and ancient looking books covered every available flat surface, including the floor. The walls were painted a deep maroon, with ornately carved gold crown and base molding. As a child, she had not felt the house to be claustrophobic, and her younger had self liked it when she had compared it to her own house that was filled with bright colors, and a distinctly upbeat feeling to it. To her this house had seemed more dark and peaceful.  
Mis sat down at the steel diner table in the kitchen, and waited silently as Mrs. Weber made tea before setting out a plate of peanut butter cookies. The girl began feeling a little awkward as the silence began to press harder on her ears. Finally, Mrs. Weber sat down, sliding over a cup of black tea towards Mis. The old woman fixed her curious eyes on Mis, as though searching and calculating her being. “Well.” said Mrs. Weber, with a clipped business tone, “you’re not happy… I mean in life.” Mis opened her mouth, gearing up to refute such an accusation, but was cut off by the old woman’s frail hand wave. “I don’t have time for you to argue, I know what you’ll say, and I’m not buying any bullshit your selling, mmmkay?” The old woman said impatiently.“Fine, what’s the difference though? millions of people are unhappy.” said Mis with a small, resigned voice, “I’m living in a way that I enjoy well enough, my family is happy, that makes me happy. I’m content with where I am and where I’m headed, and I have my books for when I feel discontented.” Mis said, gripping the hot mug of tea in her lap.“I’m gonna give you something, it’s a gift. It was given to me a long time ago, and I’ve been waiting for someone to give it to.” Mrs. Weber said.  
Mis gave the old woman a suspicious look. “Ok, Morpheus, tell me about the red pill.” She said sarcastically. “Wrong story, but you’ve got the right idea.” said the old woman with an appreciative look and a soft chuckle. “I don’t have much time to explain, but if I said I could give you the opportunity to change whatever story you wanted, would you accept that opportunity?”   
Mis was beginning to feel that electric buzz at the edge of her mind again. A dense charge in the air, that caused her muscles to prepare for a fight or flight situation.   
“I don’t know, it would depend on how much emotional injustice the story in question had caused me.” Mis deadpanned, her head throbbing. “A Presence has been watching you for a long time Artemis, it has many names, its form changes but it will always fight for power and control over others.” Up until this point, life had proven to Mis, that people that sounded crazy were, and anything could be explained away with some sharp logic and reason. However, now as this electric buzz began to prick around her body malevolently, she found herself somehow willing to believe in something unexplainable. She had never had any adventures, and if there was the slightest chance this crazy, wrinkled, old bat could offer such a thing to her…She intended to take it.   
“Alright, I’m in, do I have a mission or something? Where am I going? What story will I be changing? Who will be at the mercy of my cutting wit?” She said, a slightly wild look in her eyes as she threw her own logic down the drain. “The wizarding world of Harry Potter is your first stop…” the old women said calmly, with a look of approval at Mis’ positive reaction. There were several moments of dead air as Mis tried to understand what she’d just been told. Mis gasped in realization. “Jesus Christ Bananas, this is gonna be amazing!! Goddamn, I can’t wait to give that crusty old bastard Dumbledoor a taste of the bitterness I have every time I read his bastard name, on each bastard page in the deathly freakin’ hollows.” Mis said jumping out of her chair and waving her arms around wildly. The young girl suddenly froze “I swear to God, and every martyr…you better put me in the fifth book” said Mis building steam, “I can’t handle Sirius dying, I won’t allow it. I don’t care if I have to cast a permanent sticking charm between us I won’t…”   
“You won’t be able to perform magic.” Mrs. Weber cut her off, and Mis seemed to deflate entirely. “Why the hell not?” Mis said putting her hand on her hips, gaining back energy through indignation. “How in Merlin’s name am I going to do anything without magical abilities, I’ll be helpless, you’d just send in a Muggle?! With Voldemort prancing ‘round like the billowy bitch that he is, Avada Kadavra-ing everyone in sight.” She exclaimed, clearly appalled.   
“You’re not a part of that world, you won’t be able to do magic, but that also means it won’t affect you. The ‘billowing bitch’ as you so aptly named him, can fire every form of dark magic your way and it cannot harm you. You’ll be able to see though magical enchantments, as well.” The old woman said putting her hand out in front of her, as if trying to coax a spooked horse. Mis lifted one eyebrow, and froze her hand in place as it was flailing over her head. “Well, that’s…gonna be fun” Mis said with a sweet smile and an impish glint in her dark eyes.   
“Now.” Mis said sitting back down in her chair and moving it closer to where Mrs. Weber sat. “I have two more questions, what am I going to change, and…why in pluperfect fuck am I the one who has to go?” Mis said giving the old woman a sharp look. Mrs. Weber gave a sweet knowing smile, and placed a wrinkled hand on Mis’ knee. “You can change whatever you want, I’m gifting you the ability to consult Tom Riddle to victory if you so desire, I don’t think you will, that’s why I’m sending you.” The old woman removed her hand, to take a sip of her tea, and said softly “That, and you’ve got an evil presence latched onto you, remember the one with many names... I’m sending you to one of his domains, to meet him on his field. I could teach you how to get rid of him here…but what’s the fun in that?” Mrs. Weber said nonchalantly, setting her steaming mug back down. Mis closed her eyes, and put her head in her hands, suddenly feeling very small and overwhelmed. After a few moments she took out her phone from her back pocket, and noticed a text from her Mom, Love you Missy, have fun. “I’ll be able to come home when it’s all over, right? I’m not gonna be exiled out of my own dimension or anything?” the young girl said, as she continued to look at the innocent text. “Of course, Mis, you won’t have to stay anywhere you don’t want to.” Said Mrs. Weber with a comforting arm on her shoulder, “but I can’t promise you’ll want to come home, and if you do you won’t be the same.” Mis’ head snapped up, “You stole that from The Hobbit. What’s up old lady? Can’t even send someone out on an inter-dimensional quest without jackin’ some other wizard’s inspirational, yet slightly ominous speech?” Said Mis with a smile in her voice, “I guess not” the old woman said fondly.   
“Ok, then” Mis jumped out of her chair and clapped her hands together excitedly, “I’m ready, beam me up.” The old woman laughed and brought down out of the grey hair piled on top of her head, a pin with a gold rose which held in its center a softly luminescent pearl. Mis went and grabbed her backpack, stumbling in her haste to get back to the kitchen table.   
“You’ve seen the Wizard of Oz? This pin works similarly to the ruby slippers.” Mis made a noise, as if she was going to interrupt. “Please withhold all snarky comments, dear, you’ll have plenty of time for that later.” Mis closed her mouth, and waved her hand imperiously for the older woman to continue. “It will take you to where your heart wants to be.” the old lady said simply, and slid the pin across the table to Mis. The young girl gave a wicked smile, and began to laugh manically like a melodramatic villain. She was abruptly cut off by a coughing fit. “Note to self, work on devious laughter.” She muttered to herself.  
“We’ll be in touch.” said the old lady with a wink. Mis picked up the pin, and ran her finger along the edge of the rose’s delicate gold petals. She felt the electric presence purr dangerously beside her, and Mis smiled. She felt a small bittersweet tug in her heart, if it were possible for nostalgia to have a physical feeling it would be that gentle pull. She closed her eyes, and she felt as though a warm hand was softly griping her heart and lungs, leading her to take a step forward. Unafraid, she did as she was bidden, and immediately regretted it. She felt herself falling, the hand around her heart was gone, and it left her feeling cold and empty as she continued to fall. The air rushed like a vicious river past her ears, and her limbs were whipped around her helplessly.   
A moment later she felt her feet planted on soft, uneven ground. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes. Stretched out before her was a misty landscape and a lake the color of tar in the fading light of the sun, and she heard the forest rustle all around her. She turned around, and saw it. A massive stone castle, glowing and twinkling like a welcoming candle against the darkening sapphire sky. Mis felt her heart stutter at its bold relief on the canvas of darkness that surrounded it. She smiled fondly Yeah, ya think just because you didn’t send me an acceptance letter, that was gonna stop me from coming. Think again, Hogwarts.


End file.
